


Recognition

by Theboys



Series: Guilty [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Play, Bottom Jared, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/pseuds/Theboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Were you gonna let him fuck you on the bar?”</p><p>Sometimes, Jared needs a firm hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recognition

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I guess we're back.

Jared’s not a cruel guy, not by nature, but the idea of messing with Jensen’s head just a little has him all turned around.

He loves the way Jensen behaves when he thinks Jared’s been up to no good, and it’s probably a concerning component of their relationship that Jared craves that.

He wants to be told what he’s done is wrong, wants Jensen to make sure he learns his lessons well, so he never repeats past mistakes.

It’s probably what has him sitting against the counter of Seven Shots, the bar he’s no longer working at, (Jensen wouldn’t stand for it, refused to allow him to remain in the vicinity of Misha) with his former boss nestled between his legs.

It’s not that Jared wants Misha, and don’t get him wrong, the sex was phenomenal. The shorter man runs marathons in his spare time, fucks like a racehorse, more speed and fluidity than brute strength.

His wiry arms box Jared in, jam his spine against the counter with finality. There are discarded shot glasses behind him, filled with the residue of sticky liquids, and Jared feels a bit lightheaded.

He braces himself against the polished wood, syrupy feel of spilled liquor under his fingertips.

“What’re you doing here, Jare?” Misha allows his lips to slide against Jared’s collarbone, nips there lightly with his teeth.

“We talked about this. You’re with Jen.” Misha grins, cool of enamel touching Jared’s inflamed skin. “M’seeing someone.”

Jared gasps as Misha’s tongue snakes out and he pulls himself back.

He’s not actually planning on cheating, not again. He’s got no desire to do so, not with the way Jensen looks up at him like he’s raised the stars to the heavens himself.

But it’s hard not to be taken in by those fantastic eyes, dark shock of hair against the tanned forehead. Misha chuckles, hot sound in the dark of the closed bar, and Jared shudders in place.

“Still miss this, though,” Misha whispers, and the level of emotion in Misha’s voice gives him pause, raises a whole new set of questions Jared has yet to consider.

And then, stage right, Jensen takes his cue, coming in precisely on time, just the way that Jared knew he would when he first wrote the note.

Jared had scrawled it out hastily, made up an excuse about needing to collect his old pay stubs from Shots, and would Jensen please not worry, he’ll be home soon.

Jared had calculated how much time it would take Jensen to get home from his social engagement, and then drive over to the bar, and he was surprisingly accurate. His sense of self-satisfaction dissipates when he catches a glimpse of Jensen’s countenance.

Oh.

Jensen’s livid.

Jared spares a moment to think that maybe he’s played his game a little too close to chest, when Misha propels himself backwards with a stunned sound.

“Jesus fuck. Jensen.”

Misha crosses his arms over his lightly muscled chest, and Jared can feel his heart attempting to exit his body, taste of metal in his throat.

Misha’s looking at him with an inscrutable expression, and there’s a little bit of pain lingering in his gaze that makes Jared think that maybe Misha wasn’t completely forthright when they stopped seeing one another.

Misha’d told him he was a good lay, and a great friend, and there was no love lost.

Jared thinks he really ought to try out this thing where he thinks before he acts.

He doesn’t have time to connect any dots, however, because Jensen looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and Jared’s already levering his body off of the counter and sliding past a statuesque Misha, head bowed.

Jensen’s in the process of leaving, aware that Jared is following close behind, quiet pace.

Jensen’s sleek, black SRX is gleaming dully in the moonlight, and Jared slides into the passenger seat uncomfortably, buttons his seatbelt with a muted click.

Jensen’s not looking at him as he starts the engine, jerks the car into reverse and speeds out of the parking lot.

They’re not more than five minutes out when Jensen suddenly switches lanes, sans signal, and the horn of the other lone car on the road honks wildly as the Honda passes them. Jared braces his hands on the dashboard and turns to look at Jensen, eyes wide.

“Jen, what the hell?”

‘Shut the fuck up, Jared.”

The words are muttered so lowly that Jared snaps his mouth closed on command, dick chubbing up slightly in his jeans at the complacency underlying the anger in Jensen’s tone.

Jensen’s swinging the vehicle into a parking lot on the right, and Jared presses his cheek against the cool of the glass in order to see better. There is a comic book store in the area, one that Jared has been to a handful of times.

It’s been closed for hours, and Jared turns to Jensen, mouth creased in a frown.

“What--” the words dry up in his mouth when he turns to find Jensen watching him, face devoid of all emotion.

Oh.

Jensen’s so quick Jared doesn’t have the chance to take another breath, before he’s being manhandled into the wide backseat, realizes that Jensen still has the seats folded down from when they needed space to transport his old desk a few days ago.

Jensen’s talking, muttering, more like, and Jared clears his head in an effort to catch the low words.

“Fucking shit. Fucking shit knows what it does to me. Knows that I can’t watch that.” Jared reaches up a hand for Jensen’s hair, wants to explain that it was all a game, that he wouldn’t, not now when he knows how good it is, how good it can be.

Jensen catches his wrist quick, too tight, and Jared mewls out in pain and sudden arousal.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Jared pants, and Jensen’s undoing his jeans, shoves them, along with his briefs, down to his ankles.

Jared’s ashamed at how hard he is, just from a few well-phrased words, but Jensen doesn’t seem to be afflicted with any such qualms.

He jerks Jared’s black tee over his head roughly, and then he’s naked, more or less, and Jensen’s still in the business casual attire he wore to the home of one of his co-workers dinner parties.

His merlot-colored dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and Jared’s eyes follow the slope of his neck as he leans forward.

“Were you gonna let him fuck you on the bar?”

Jared’s shaking his head, because no, he wasn’t, that was never part of the plan, but then Jensen’s fingers are pressed gently to his hole, slippery and chilled, and when did he have time to find lube?

Jared’s aware that they keep some in the glove compartment, but he’s more out of it than he thought, if he missed Jensen’s procural of it.

Jensen presses in, two fingers deep, no preamble, shoving a grunt from deep in Jared’s chest.

“This is mine. You don’t get to share it.” He screws his fingers tightly and Jared’s body arches, as much as he’s able in such a confined space.

“Fucking slut for it, huh? M’not doing it for you?”

Jared whimpers when Jensen scissors his fingers sharply, crooks them and stabs into his prostate, sledgehammer finesse.

“Jen, it’s not like that--” but Jensen curves his body forward, looms over Jared with hooded eyes.

“Want something to fill you up all the time, right baby?” Jared’s nodding before he thinks better of it, because Jen’s right, he does, needs to be filled to the brim, wants it so much his mouth is already watering when he thinks about it.

“Answer me.”

The steel is back in Jensen’s voice, and his hips buck up in response.

“Wanna be filled. Fucking full, Jen.”

Jensen smirks, and the heat coils deep in his belly at the display.

“See, we’ve been dancing around this thing.” Jared’s head hits the rear-window as Jensen presses his ring finger in alongside, none too gently.

“I want you wet and open for me, all the goddamn time.” Jensen lurches forward, latches his warm mouth onto Jared’s peaked nipples and bites down, so savage that Jared’s dick jerks from where it’s trapped between their bodies, heavy and dark.

He releases that nipple, only to pinch and tug at it as he laves his warm tongue over the second, nibbling so harshly that tears leak from Jared’s tightly shut eyelids.

Then Jensen is on his knees, pants unbuckled to his waist, dick curving up menacingly, wine dark as he settles between the obscene V of Jared’s twitching limbs.

“C’mon, Jare,” he says softly, pseudo-gentility.

“Wanna hear you choke.” Jensen’s voice quivers with the request, and Jared’s surprised to see how much Jensen’s getting off on this, the way his wide palm is cupped around the base of his dick.

Jared allows his mouth to fall open obediently, and Jensen pushes in so roughly that Jared’s choking from the force of the insertion, nevermind the dick nudging at his tonsils.

He whimpers, reaches up for purchase on Jensen’s hips, but Jen slaps his hands down violently and cups one hand against the back of Jared’s head. He bows the younger man’s head until his torso his bent, and Jensen slides his free hand down, reaching beneath Jared’s swollen balls to seek out his hole.

His shoves three back inside, laughs lowly when Jared jerks around his dick.

“Gonna fuck you like this. Don’t come.”

Jensen begins to piston his hips in and out with a violence Jared didn’t know he possessed. Jared’s gagging, he can’t find any air, and there are tears and spit covering his face.

He’s so damn hard he could slice through rock.

He’s whimpers and moans, and he can’t breathe with how good it feels for Jensen to use him this way, the way Jen doesn’t seem to care about what’s going on with him. He’s fucking empty and open, and Jensen screws his fingers in with a little twist and groans as he shoves his dick further down his throat.

“So fucking nasty, Jared. Fucking bitch for this.”

Jared nods, dick bobbing in his cheeks, nods so vigorously he almost dislodges Jensen’s cock entirely.

Jensen’s laugh is nothing but a low hum in the night and he pushes his pinkie that much further inside Jared’s willing body, squelch of lube running against Jared’s taint.

“Gonna fist you,” he mutters, uses his free hand to jerk Jared’s mouth away and slaps him with his dick, once on each cheek, hand so tight in his hair that Jared’s crying again.

He shoves back through, Jared’s lips swollen and stretched so vulgarly it’s painful, and Jensen removes his digits when his hips start to thrust painfully. Jared knows he’s close, and so he suckles harder, chasing after the salty flavor of pre-come and saliva.

Jensen pulls out, and Jared sucks in a ragged breath as the first warm spurt of Jensen’s come lathers his face and the top of his hair, trickles down his cheeks. Some of it falls into his waiting mouth, and he sucks it down greedily, whimpering for more.

Jensen tucks himself away and tweaks Jared’s nipple past pain when he reaches up to wipe his face.

“Don’t you dare touch it. Gonna wear it,” he mumbles, more to himself than for Jared’s benefit.

He leans down to look at the way Jared’s hole is twitching from stimulation and desperation, and smiles, pregnant with promise.

He’s back in the front seat, fumbling around in the dash, and Jared leaves his legs spread, Jensen didn’t say to close them, and he can feel the cooling stickiness of the come as it travels down his face, droplets splattering his neck.

He moans at the feeling, surprised to hear Jensen groan heavily from the front.

He turns back around, something in his fist and pauses, eyes roaming Jared from head to toe, the painful rigidity of Jared’s neglected dick, the way it curves slightly, angry red crown.

“You look so damn good like this.”

Jared whimpers, pushes out a broken uh huh from between puffy lips, and spreads his legs even wider, in invitation.

Jensen’s face hardens, just a touch, and then that feral smile is back, chills tripping down Jared’s spine at the expression.

“S’right, baby. Open up.”

Jared nods, head clunking pathetically, and then he feels something thick and ridged pressed between his cheeks, and he almost groans, half pleasure, half dismay.

Fucking plug.

It’s widest at the base, and Jared cringes at the sting when Jensen shoves it all the way inside with a nasty pop, looks satisfied at his handiwork. He taps at it, heavily, with three fingers, and the toy jostles around his loose insides, fat and hot.

Not enough.

Jared’s crying a little and his wants to touch himself so much, and Jensen’s face is nothing but pretty eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Get in the front.”

Jared scrambles to obey, reaches down for his jeans but stiffens when Jensen clears his throat.

He leaves them at his ankles, an unwieldy mess at his climbs back into the passenger seat, damp ass connecting with onyx leather. He rubs himself, conspicuously, and Jensen grins, harder to see in the waning light.

He’s naked, front of the car, dick jutting out from his pubes, thickness of the plug shoving at his insides in a way that’s bordering on too painful.

He can feel the crust of Jen’s come on his face and he stutters out a breath.

“Jensen. Please. Fuck, I’ll do anything.” Jensen puts the car in drive and spares him a glance.

“I know. Want you to touch yourself.” Jared gasps with relief, snakes his hand around his dick and tugs, minor relief, and his hole spasms around the plug. His legs fall open further and he presses his head against the headrest.

“Oh, fucking yes, fuck.”

Jensen’s smiling, he can hear it in his voice, and Jared focuses on the dry drag of his palm against heated flesh.

“C’mere. Want your mouth on my dick.” Jared keeps one hand on his own cock and unbuttons Jensen’s slacks, puts the entirety of Jensen’s flaccid dick into his mouth, hums at the residual taste of release.

Jensen’s plumping under his tongue, right away, and Jared continues to stroke himself, extremely awkward from that angle.

He feels Jensen’s right leg jostle as he steps on the gas.

“Just like that.” He pauses, takes a sharp right.

“I’ll fucking beat your ass if you come.”

 

 


End file.
